Burns Away
by lurv2boogie
Summary: Buffy knows, better than anyone, about the selfdestructive nature of passionate love. But how long can she keep it up before she just lets herself burn away? [Oneshot, Spuffy,] You don't need to be a fan to appreciate the writing.


**A/N: Hey, I know it's been a while, and I'm really sorry about that. Blame it on scowlingpixie, my muse, who decided to up and leave me for six weeks to go travelling around Europe. Anyway, she's coming back soon, so this is like a celebratory oneshot, I guess. **

**Okay, so recommended soundtrack for this oneshot would be "Neon" by John Mayer (found on the Heavier Things album I think...), and I borrowed the hookline from said song. Also, I'm not John Mayer or Joss Whedon, so all you ambulance-chasing (fanfic-chasing) lawyers, go find someone else to pick on:P**

**But enough of my rambling, read, enjoy, and please review!**

* * *

Emotions are the strangest thing, don't you find? They are the things that drive us; they are the source of every motive, the first steps of a journey, and the end to every means. There was no rebel without a cause. There never is. Get right down to it, and all we have left are those things that drive us insane, and as much as we may claim to want them to, we never really do want them to leave us, for the simple reason that without emotions, we would be nothing. Empty. Incomplete.

---

_Who knows_

And isn't it funny, in a twisted kind of way, that the more I crave your touch, the feeling of your lips on me, the more I wish I didn't. But that's what it is. A craving. An addiction to the indescribable feeling of your skin against mine, your thumb that's traced an invisible, yet infinitely extensive, network of patterns along my hand, arm, neck, spine. It would be so easy to just let go, ride along with the excitement and curiosity that boils in my blood whenever I think of you, but I don't. I wish I could. But I don't. I'm not entirely sure I'm doing this right. Is love supposed to be like this? To be ever-present on your mind, to the extent where your breathing shallows and quickens, to have the uncomfortable feeling of heat rising to your throat, pounding on your bones as though screaming to be let free. Is love supposed to set your skin on fire, too hot to touch, so that you become so completely caught up in the overwhelming passion of the feeling that you cannot wait to see your loved one again, if only because you know they are the only cure for this… this _disease_.

---

_How long _

It spreads through your body faster than wildfire, that ravages everything you have left until there's just nothing. Until you're empty. But the truth of it is, you're never really empty, because there's always going to be that singular, burning passion inside you. I feel like it'll keep burning me until there's only ashes, but I know better.

---

_She can go_

My lip is cracked and swollen from the number of times I have bitten it, thinking of you. Thinking of the way you've bitten it. The way that you've kissed it, gently running your hands along the side of my body, pulling me into a tight embrace as though the worst thing you could ever do in your life would be to let go. The same embrace that sends shivers down my spine when I think about it. My hands are shaking wildly, fists clenched tightly, the same way that they clench around your arms when you hold me, and it is that grip that allows me to get enveloped in the warmth of your skin.

---

_Before _

Those subtle gestures that you send me are intended to be almost unnoticeable, but they scream out at me regardless. The way that you grin at me lopsidedly, wink at me, raise an eyebrow, kiss the top of my head. All signals to tell me how you feel, because we both know that you are a man of little words, and it's only through this silent conversation that I know I'm not alone in feeling --

---

_She burns_

I don't think I _can_ feel anymore. It is the strangest thing; a force that blows through me, so cold that it rushes through me, straight to my heart, freezing and numbing everything else until all I have left is the overwhelming collection of emotion. And yet, at the same time, something as hot and out of control as a wildfire that should melt the ice but doesn't, only seems to encourage it.

---

_Away_

No woman is an island. That's the saying, isn't it? Well, more or less, anyway. But I've come to the realisation that it's not entirely accurate. Of course, the phrase means that no one is truly alone.

But being this much in love, so lost in it that you can't find your way back out? It's the most lonely situation you can find yourself in.

--

Who knows how long she can go before she burns away?


End file.
